To Love a Maleficar
by Midnight Hawk
Summary: Myra Amell will stop at nothing to make Alistair hers, even if she has to bind herself to a demon to do it. Warnings: Bondage, Bloodplay, Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Dubcon. AU.


Alistair opened his eyes and saw nothing. He blinked rapidly but that brought no change in his vision. Where was he? He tried to move, but found he could not, his wrists were manacled to short lengths of chain. He was naked but for a loincloth and his bare back rested against a cold stone wall. His feet were free from shackles, but his questing foot found nothing but cold stone and scattered straw underneath him. The chains shackling his arms were long enough so that he could sit upon the cell floor, but no longer than that.

Someone held him prisoner, but who? And for that matter, how had he got here? The last thing he had remembered was preparing for the Lands meet when Myra had offered him a drink. His brow furrowed as he realised he couldn't remember anything after that. The woman must have drugged him! But to what end?

Myra, there was a thought, her image came to him as he wrestled futily with his chains. Red hair, redder lips, pale skin, burning blue eyes. Outwardly she was a vision of loveliness, but, by the Maker, the things she did and said chilled him to the bone. She looked so beautiful that even know it was hard for him to believe all the terrible things she had done, even if it was all done in the name of the Grey Wardens. For Myra was a mage and not only a mage, but a mage who had embraced that most forbidden of arts: Blood Magic.

The was a sound of a door opening and suddenly the room was too bright for Alistair's eyes, he turned his face away from the light, screwing his eyes up in pain. "Aww poor child," a voice drawled, Myra's voice, sensuous and teasing and so very very evil. When his eyes had adjusted to the light, Alistair could make out the halo of red hair surrounding her pale face.

"Myra what's going on?" He asked, pulling at his chains. "Set me free!"

"Oh Alistair," Myra purred, "I came to explain things to you, but I won't be freeing you, not until you are... out of danger."

"What? What twisted plan are you working on now, woman? I've seen you do some frightening things, but I didn't think you'd stab me in the back!"

"Hush." Those sensuous red lips formed the sound perfectly as she stroked Alistair's cheek with a gentle hand. Her nails were red too, he couldn't help but notice, they were painted the exact same shade of her lips. Even now, having put him in this awful position, she was irresistible. He bit his lip as she slid her hand down his neck and chest, no doubt she could feel his heartbeat thundering away in his breast. He felt his body responding to her touch, warming him even as it frightened him.

"You are here because I have made a pact with Queen Anora," Myra murmured, circling his left nipple with her thumb, eliciting a gasp from him. "I needed her support at the Landsmeet and I didn't want you doing anything foolishly heroic or selfless like you always seem to want to do, like proclaiming yourself King or killing Loghain."

"Loghain still lives?" Alistair said, trying to jerk away from Myra's touch."

"I have made him a Grey Warden, it is fitting, no? I laughed and laughed." Her hand went on stroking his bare flesh, sliding lower across his belly.

"Why am I tied up?" Alistair shouted, trying to kick Myra away from him, but she was too nimble to be caught by his flailing feet.

"Anora doesn't want you running free until you are no longer a threat to her position. When the Blight is defeated, when the Archdemon is dead, then she maybe prevailed upon to release you."

"That's crazy, I never wanted to be King!" He pulled against the chains, dragging himself away from the wall. Myra stayed just out his reach, a satirical look upon her pretty face. She was enjoying this, he realised, fade take her!

"Even if Anora believed that, I would still not have you running free. I plan for Loghain to kill the Archdemon, he started this little affair, after all. A life for a life, blood for blood, the rightness of such an act amuses me. Tis his fault Duncan and the King are dead, so it is only fitting he should be the one to end it."

"'Tis?' You've been talking to that swamp witch again!" Alistair said, still pulling on the chains.

"She has some good ideas," Myra purred, her eyes admiring the way Alistair's muscles rippled with the effort.

"She's evil and you're no better!" Alistair gave up trying to wrench the chains from the wall and slumped against his bonds. "At least with Morrigan you know where she stands, she never had me locked up and claimed it was for my own good!"

"It is for your own good, my dear templar," Myra said, kneeling down beside of him. The fabric of her red robes brushed against his legs and the silky softness against his bare skin was maddening. "Don't frown, I will be back for you once the final battle is over."

"You enjoy tormenting me," he accused, turning his face from her. She caught his face with her hand and forced him to meet her gaze. Her sharp nails dug into his cheek, and he felt the lightest trickle of blood upon his face.

"I have to admit I am enjoying this," Myra said, "but do not think me heartless, my paladin." The word "paladin" left her lips like honey, she had never called him that before. He could not look away from those burning blue eyes, her grasp held him there. He saw something in her eyes that frightened him far more than anything he'd seen before and, granted he'd seen Myra tearing the heart from a werewolf, he'd seen some pretty scary things.

"You... you're in love with... me?" Alistair managed, quailing from the depth of feeling he saw in her eyes. It made no sense, she was a frighteningly strong mage, a maleficarium, a blood mage, while he was a former templar. She was the very thing he had been trained to despise, to kill and yet he had been forced to support her in all her nefarious wrongdoings, because she was Fereldan's last hope.

"You think blood mages can't love? Blood is the essence of life itself, blood wells from the heart with every pulsing beat. Blood is life, blood is love, blood is everything." She released his head from her fearsome grasp and then delicately licked the blood from his cheek. Alistair was struck by the tenderness of the gesture, her tongue flickered so very softly across his cheek. He felt his flesh grow warm under her ministrations.

"You... you're evil," he stammered as the blush crept across his skin, "you made a deal with a demon for forbidden power." But even as he said that, he felt a surging of desire that was only all the more stronger for being illicit.

Myra withdrew from him, his blood wet upon her lips. "I don't believe in good and evil," she said. "The magi circle kidnapped me as a child, the Chantry took you in 'gainst your will, the Grey Wardens force recruits to submit to the Taint... I ask you, where's the good in that?" She didn't wait for an answer as she snaked her arms around him and pressed her lips against his.

Alistair could taste his own blood on her lips as she kissed him gently. Despite himself, he would have embraced her if his arms were not shackled. Her mouth teased him, her tongue just flicking lightly across his lips. She bit his lip gently and he could not prevent a moan from escaping his throat, she knew exactly how to tease his desire into a maddening form.

Myra's hands slid down to his ragged loin cloth and began to rub him through the material. She already had him in quite a state but no woman had ever laid hands on him there before and he couldn't quite believe the sensations Myra's touch aroused in him. He was already hurtling towards the brink of pleasure before his mind had time to process what was happening to him. Her hands were inside the cloth now, skin on skin, and he could have died.

He closed his eyes and rolled his head back in pleasure, each breath a gasp. "Myra," he whispered between her cruel kisses, "Myra, please!" He didn't know what he was begging for, he only knew he was a slave to the sensations she was creating in him. He wished he could touch her in return, if only to show her how maddening desire could be.

Alistair was right on the brink when Myra withdrew her hands from him. He looked at her and saw the cruel smile sneaking across her face. She had never intended to give him pleasure, she was just tormenting him as was her fashion. In that moment he hated her, but still he wanted her so badly and worse, she knew it.

"What do you want from me?" Alistair asked, trembling with anger and lust.

"I only want what is best for Ferelden and what is best for you. I will come back to you when the time is right." She walked out of the cell, leaving him to darkness and the agony of desire. He wanted to curse her name but the words would not come, instead he thought about the redness of her lips or the creaminess of her skin.

Time passed, he did not know how much, there were no windows in his cell, no way to see daylight. A man came with food and a chamber pot every so often, but Alistair had no way of telling when. He passed the time by exercising his arms against the chains, but he knew it was futile, even if he was strong enough to rip the chains from the wall, he would still be trapped in the small dark cell.

He thought of Myra constantly, how could she say she loved him when she treated him so cruelly? Well that was not quite true, as far as he knew, he was the only person she had ever locked up "to keep him safe". Why was his safety so important to her? Or had she only chained him because she knew he would object to Loghain becoming a Grey Warden.

No, he thought, she must have some plan for him or she would have simply had him killed instead. That was not a comforting thought, anymore than her claims of love. The love of a maleficar was a frightening thing, she had the power to make him do her will by working her wicked way with his blood. He thought of her tongue lapping up the blood from his cheek and felt a surging of desire suffuse his groin. The truth was she didn't need to bewitch his blood to ensnare him, he was already half-way there and all of his templar training couldn't help.

He didn't know how long it had been when she returned to him, but it must have been days. This time she was wearing red silk robes with a long split up each side of the skirt, giving him a tantalising glimpse of her bare thighs. If only he were free, he'd grab hold of her, tear off her robes, throw her down onto the straw covered floor and-

Alistair pushed away that thought, it wasn't like him to think such violently sexual thoughts. Had she put them there, he wondered? Myra came towards him, crimson lips pursed in a manner so feline he half expected her to purr. He thought of those lips crushed against his own, of them sliding down his chest and wrapping around his member. Yes, he wanted her, despite of what she was, despite what she'd done. It wasn't right, it was indecent, but knowing that didn't help.

"The blight is ended," Myra said, "did you feel the Archdemon die?"

"No," Alistair replied, not meeting her eyes. "I only dreamed of you. What did you do to me?"

Myra shrugged, the low cut of her robes giving him an eyeful of her pale and freckled bosom: "I only wanted to share my feelings with you," she murmured. "I have done nothing to you, except toyed with your pleasure. Any lust you feel for me is your own."

Alistair pulled against the chains again, vainly trying to reach her, but she was not fool enough to step into his reach. "Now that the blight is over, you said Anora would release me," Alistair said, trying not to think of her warm moist flesh sliding against his own.

"I said she would consider it, she is not happy that I lead Loghain to his death."

"Loghain's dead?"

"He killed the Archdemon and sacrificed his life to do so, that is why I made him a warden in the first place. Would you rather you or I had died in his place?"

"What about Riordan?"

"He died in the battle, trying to kill the Archdemon. He fell from its back and died from the fall."

"So once again we are the last Grey Wardens in Ferelden."

"We don't have to be... remember Avernus? He found a way to keep the taint from killing him."

She stepped closer to him and he was able to reach her, his hands fastened on her shoulders, hard enough to bruise her pale flesh. "What are you suggesting?" He asked her.

"We can just leave, I have learned the ways of blood magic so that I would not die from the taint. You could come with me, we could live out our lives together, for centuries."

Alistair pulled her against his chest, he could not embrace her thanks to the limited reach of the chains, so he simply let her lean against him. "You are making me crazy," he muttered, feeling his heart thundering in his chest.

She smiled and raked him with her nails, drawing four bloody scratches across his chest. "How do I make you crazy?" She purred and began to lick up the blood.

"Oh Maker, what you do to me!" He gasped. "When you touch me I can't think straight. I don't even know who I am anymore."

"You're mine, isn't that enough?" She crooned, with his blood on her lips once more, her fingers stroked the back of his neck.

"I don't want to be your puppet," Alistair muttered, staring as she licked her lips. "I don't want to be anyone else's puppet either, while I'm on the subject.

"Then be my equal, be my sword and strength."

"And your bacon and your shield?" It felt wicked to twist the words of the chant into bedroom play... or jail cell play, he supposed. More wicked than falling for a maleficar? he asked himself.

"Yes, that too," Myra said, smiling. "All you have to do is let me love you."

"And what exactly does that entail? Deals with demons? Blood sacrifices? Yes, I want you, badly, even though every part of me screams that you are an abomination. I mean, you drugged me and had me locked up and yet all I can think about is your smooth skin and the demon fire inside you. "

Myra parted the skirts of her robes with a hand, he saw an expanse of creamy thigh and a cruel crooked dagger slipped inside a garter. She slipped the dagger out and drew it swiftly across her chest, above her breasts. A slim line of crimson welled there and began to drip. She took hold of his head by the hair. "Drink, that's all it takes."

"I remember what happened the last time I drank blood..." Alistair protested feebly, but he let her guide his head to her chest. He lapped at the blood with tongue and felt Myra's arms tighten around him as she moaned in what sounded like pleasure. His body flushed with heat and desire as the blood ran down his throat. Her power entered him and if it were not for the chains he would have taken her then and there while he drank from her veins.

When he had drank his fill she pushed him away. Alistair trembled with the power inside him, it was only a fraction of the strength of her magic, but it was the power of a demon. He fell limp against the chains, overwhelmed by the experience and completely at her mercy.

"Alistair you stink," Myra complained after a while.

"I didn't exactly have the deluxe service in here you know," he muttered.

She left and returned with a bucket and a sponge, by which time he had gotten used to the roar of the Blood Magic in his veins. She soaked the sponge in water and bathed his naked chest. Alistair groaned as the wet sponge slid over his body. He watched Myra's mouth twitch into a wicked smile as the sponge slid lower and lower. Then her wet hands were on his loincloth again, removing it and letting his ample desire for her be seen plainly. She didn't touch him there with her hands, instead she teased him with the sponge. She was very gentle which maddened him to new heights of delirious frustration, he didn't want her to be gentle, he wanted her to surround him with her tight wet flesh and futter his brains out.

Myra smiled and touched the shackles with a finger, freezing the metal until it became brittle and shattered. Alistair was unchained, he rubbed his wrists before setting his gaze on Myra again. Now he was free he could do all the things to he had dreamed about in the dark. He threw his arms around her, ignoring the cramps as his muscles protested the sudden movement. Myra's body was crushed against his chest while he delivered burning kisses across her face and neck, smearing blood from her cut across her pale skin.

His hands slid down her back and caressed her bottom, the fabric of her robes tantalising under his touch. He found the slits in her skirts and then his hands were underneath the skirt, stroking her bare thighs. Myra pressed herself against him and opened up a long shallow wound down the length of his chest with the dagger. She spread the blood and the dampness from the sponge bath across his torso, using his flesh as an artist's canvass she drew mystical symbols with his blood.

Alistair licked his blood from her fingers and tried to undo the lacing at the back of her robes, but he had never undressed a woman before and couldn't quite manage it. Myra laughed at his confusion and pushed him down into the straw covered floor of the cell.

"But I'll get all dirty again," Alistair protested.

"Yes, I know," Myra replied cheekily and let her robe slowly fall to the floor, exposing first her pale breasts, then her gently curving belly, the small red thatch of hair that adored the cleft of her sex and finally those wonderful creamy legs. Alistair's eyes were rooted upon that small slit of pink flesh and she let him explore this strange new territory with his fingers and tongue. Alistair took delight in trying to torture Myra the same way she had tortured him, but the truth was his lack of experience meant he simply didn't know how, until she showed him where to touch her. Myra cried out again, balling her hands into his hair and pressing his head closer to her, thrusting his questing tongue deeper inside her.

Alistair withdrew his mouth from her and kissed her crimson lips so she could taste herself on his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist, brushing her pelvis up against his hard erection. Alistair found himself struggling for breath, his desire was so strong. Myra smiled cruelly, but this time she did not tease, she just slid onto him, embracing his flesh with her own, taking the full length of him inside her.

The Blood Magic that fizzed in them both put fire in their joining. As they coupled, blood from Alistair's chest besmirched Myra's torso, dappling her breasts with sanguine smears. Myra rode him hard and fast while his hands explored her breasts, his fingers slippery with blood, sweat and other, more intimate, fluids.

She was so slick and tight around him that it drove him crazy with sensations. He was almost ashamed of the passion he felt for her, it was a twisted unholy thing. He started to thrust hard into her as she rode him, crying out her name with each thrust. Her cries became louder and more frequent, her nails raking his chest as she fucked him, possessed by a wild and powerful lust.

Part of Alistair was removed from their bestial love making and was aware that they were coupling like animals in a filthy jail cell, lit only by one guttering lantern. But it did not matter, even when the lantern consumed the last of its fuel and they were left to fuck in darkness. All that mattered was this union, this joining of flesh, the pleasure so strong it was painful.

And then that pleasure reached a crescendo, it was like lightening danced through their beings, their shuddering flesh spasming against each other's with each paroxysm of joy. When it was finally ended, there in the dark they lay together, the Blood Magic still filling them both with unquenchable lust. Alistair finger combed Myra's red hair and pressed a kiss on her loving but cruel mouth.

"You're mine now," she crooned into his ear before biting his earlobe. This was true and she was his, bonded to each other with the darkest of magics.

And he would never let her go.


End file.
